


Ombre e Bastoni

by MarriedWithJo



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coffee Shops, Enemies to Lovers, Italian Character(s), Italiano | Italian, M/M, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:33:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22253458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarriedWithJo/pseuds/MarriedWithJo
Summary: Whenever Emilio Picani walked into the Dolce&Remi, all heads turned.Maybe it was his everlasting teenager vibe despite having been in his thirties for some time.Maybe it was the way his light brown hair brushed the frame of his glasses.Maybe it was the bright burst of joy that radiated with every step he took.Or maybe, simply, because he was excruciatingly hot.
Relationships: Dr. Emile Picani/Deceit Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	1. Ch. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!   
> Today I’m back with a fanfic written by the amazing and wonderful @misslilidelaney (on Tumblr) almost over a year and half ago?, for my Italian!Sides AU on Tumblr (@italian-sides) which i tried to translate in English, while at the same time keeping some key Italian words in it.  
> A huge thank you goes also to @watcher-from-the-heights (on Tumblr) for being my extraordinary beta all the freaking time.   
> There will be some translations at the end of the fic, but please lemme know if you don’t understand something, I’ll gladly answer your questions!   
> Well, enjoy!

(a lit bit of a legend to navigate through this fic:

**Giuda = Deceit**

**Emilio = Emile Picani**

**Luca = Logan**

**Patrizio = Patton**

**Virgilio = Virgil**

**Romolo = Roman**

**Remo = Remy**

**Tommaso = Thomas** )

enjoy!

Whenever Emilio Picani walked into the Dolce&Remi, all heads turned.

Maybe it was his everlasting teenager vibe despite having been in his thirties for some time.  
Maybe it was the way his light brown hair brushed the frame of his glasses.  
Maybe it was the bright burst of joy that radiated with every step he took.

Or maybe, simply, because he was _excruciatingly_ hot.

Everyone, in the clique of Remo Stella's friends, including himself, got a more or less significant crush on the psychologist.  
His brother Romolo was the first to flirt with him in a rather shameless way, getting knocked down with a feather when the handsome Picani delicately declined his offer.  
Luca looked at Emilio's eyes - and maybe also at his ass - for a long time in a dreamy way, before placing his own pair of eyes on those surrounded by ephelids belonging to Emilio's cousin, Patrizio, and realizing that _those_ were the eyes he wanted to look at forever.  
Virgilio never said anything about it, but Remo was quite convinced that his choice to enroll in Psychology at university was not entirely accidental.

On his hand, Remo limited himself to get over his crush when he learned that Emilio was looking for someone to share rent with, and decided to offer one of the rooms in his apartment to house the psychologist, at least until he found another arrangement - which didn't happen, not even three years later.  
While living with him, Remo understood that Emilio was as adorable as he was terribly distracted and messy, and he took him more as a clumsy older brother than a possible companion.

And there was the closet situation, of course.

Despite hanging out with the most queer souls of Bologna, Emilio never did a coming out of any kind, so in reality only Patrizio could probably know if he spent time with them only because they were interesting lost causes or because, in the end, he was also part of the closet too.

Not that it mattered, anyway, because when Patrizio brought the psychologist, who had just moved from Verona, to the bar for the first time, the whole company "adopted" him almost automatically, either because of the Cool Cousin Effect **™** or because, in the end, Emilio was a truly exquisite person, who managed to impress everyone.

Well, _almost_ everyone.

If there was a person who couldn't stand the psychologist, it was undoubtedly Remo's dishwasher-handyman, Giuda Schiavon.  
After moving from what he called "la terra dei mussatti" **[1]** , that is Venice and his mosquitoes, to study at the University of Bologna, he gave up on it during the second semester of his third year, finding various little jobs before landing at Dolce&Remì and being accepted by Remo and Tommaso.

Remo doubted that he really had the chance to have **all** those work experiences, but Tommaso liked the commitment that Giuda put into doing things, so the owner of the bar agreed to keep him.  
Giuda appeared like a good person, even if everyone seemed to have noticed that he loved to exaggerate things, especially regarding his past in Venice, and Virgilio once sentenced, sipping his coffee: "He tells things as if they were true.", something everyone nodded to.

But if Giuda was good at hiding his emotions behind layers and layers of nonsense, it was clear as the sun that he, unlike everyone else, couldn't suffer Emilio.  
As soon as the young man got into the bar, or showed up for the clique's nights out, Giuda had always, and invariably, something to do.  
When they were out, he would get a text that forced him to go elsewhere; when he was at work, suddenly he had to go and do something in the kitchen.Emilio tried several times to speak with him, but Giuda always cut him short in a bad way.  
Remo found it irritating, but Emilio didn't say much at home about it, and Giuda eventually continued to do his job well.

Lately, he made up his mind that the bar's wine list was not interesting enough, and started suggesting typical wines from the Veneto region, which Tommaso decided to try, and that everyone seemed to like.  
Paradoxically, the happiest of them all was Emilio himself, whom Remo knew was a wine lover:

"Really, I would have expected everything, except that here in Bologna I would have drunk such a good Millesimato di Conegliano **[2]**! Guys, really, I love Emilian wines but here you're really spoiling me. Last week's Garda Chardonnay **[2]** was **divine**!"

Tommaso gloated and indicated the kitchen boy struggling with a tray full of glasses:

"You must thank Giuda, Emi. He's the one who's coming up with Veneto wines."

Emilio darkened for a moment, looking down at his feet. Remo didn't even have the time to comment that the veronese came out with a ringing:  
"Thanks for the wine, Giuda!", which followed up with a disaster that definitely opened the bartender's eyes.

" ** _GHESBORO_**!” **[3]** , the Venetian shouted, while the tray flew out of his hand, shattering the six glasses on it. With his face flushed from... anger?, he turned to Emilio and hissed, mordant: "You're welcome." before leaving for the umpteenth time in search of the broom.  
The veronese darkened further, and Patrizio put a hand on his back, without saying anything, while the hamsters in Remo's brain slowly started to move.

With an agile bounce, he passed the massacre of glasses and reached Giuda in the broom's closet, where he was about to say something before hearing him speak:  
"Ma ghesboro. **[3]** That's not possible! Right in front of **him**!" the young man was saying with bitterness, while putting on his yellow dishwashing gloves to be able to collect the glasses without hurting himself.

And it was at that moment that the hamsters in Remo's head understood how to run on the wheel.  
All the distancings, all the tension, his always getting away but remaining within reach of conversation.

Giuda asked the boys to bring more Veneto wines because Emilio often said that he would have wanted to be a sommelier, if he hadn't become a psychologist.

Giuda knew it. Giuda always listened.

And as they looked each other in the eyes, Remo visibly shocked and Giuda flushed with embarrassment, the roman finally understood.

Giuda had a **_terrible_** crush on Emilio.

**[1]** transl: "the land of mussatti", in which "mussatti" is the venetian dialect term for "mosquitos"  
**[2]** : they're two famous Veneto wines  
**[3]** : according to the Urban Dictonary, "Venetian slang meaning literally "I ejaculate on it", an expression of anger or surprise. Expression of very common use."


	2. Ch. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whenever Emilio Picani walked into the Dolce&Remì, all heads turned.
> 
> And when all heads turned, Giuda Schiavon's only instinct was to turn away.
> 
> To avoid imploding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am with the second chapter!  
> Again, a huge thank you to both @misslilidelaney on Tumblr for writing this and @watcher-from-the-heights for being my beta!  
> Enjoy!

Whenever Emilio Picani walked into the Dolce&Remì, all heads turned.

And when all heads turned, Giuda Schiavon's only instinct was to turn away.

To avoid imploding.  
  
At the exact moment the young man crossed the threshold, Giuda understood that he was Patrizio's famous "psychologist cousin".  
And at the exact moment he saw his face, only one sentence echoed in his brain:  
  
\- _Sò ciavà_. - **[1]**

The newcomer sat down at the counter, while Remo looked illuminated with immense light and Romolo seemed to be having a heart attack.  
  
"Patrì. Are you kidding? You should at least have said that your cousin was so beautiful!"  
  
"What are you saying, Romolo? C'mon, you're embarrassing him!"

"Orco can, Pati **[2]** , take it easy! Trust me, it takes much more to embarrass me.", the interested party replied, giving Romolo, who just laughed like a twelve year old, a benevolent smile.

\- Nice, exactly what I needed, even the competition with the Stellina. -

Giuda glanced at Remo, who had been wiping the same glass for three minutes.

-Ah, well. Both the Stelline. **[3]** -

He just looked at the newcomer from behind the counter, through the mirror in front of which the liquors were placed.  
Of course both twins already came out swinging, while Virgilio and Luca simply looked at him with the gaze of two hungry lions.  
And obviously Patrizio noticed the looks that the Trentine guy - that is Luca - launched at his blood relative, and Giuda shook his head after seeing the Emilian's eyes getting a little bleary.

-If I end up like this too, I'll set myself on fire.-

"You're quiet, Giudino **[4]**.", Tommaso, the only one who seemed immune to the charm of the newcomer, chirped.  
Giuda merely smiled slyly, pointing to the group behind him with a nod:

"I'm enjoying the vultures."

"Pffftt, they're terribleee!", the pastry chef whispered, biting his lip from laughing, which made Giuda smile even further and then continue:

"They look like they haven't seen a man for ages, eh? And Patrizio has the face of someone who repented 'a sbrega'."

"At what?"

"Someone who regretted it very much. I’ll have to teach you Venetian sooner or later, boss."

Tommaso nodded, and Giuda decided to get defensive even before anyone could attack him.

"Plus, like... He's not even _that_ cool. He's pretty, don't get me wrong, but c'mon, to the point of making all four of them lose their heads?"

Tommaso nodded, shrugging:

"Agreed. And I hope Luca will soon get over this thing before Patrizio goes on a killing spree."

"Patrizio should also get a move on, however; Luca is too much of a wimp to realize he's drooling like a slug. If he doesn't get moving, someone else will take him and I’d like to remind you that the last time Patrizio got drunk, he got a sad hangover."

"Don't remind me, please."

"Ao, regà!" **[5]** , Remo sneaked in and took them both by the arm, smiling like the idiot he was.

"Come and meet the newcomer!"

\- Oh, no, please. -

"Boss, at least let me take off my dishwashing gloves!"

"No no, you have to keep them, I want him to understand who's in charge!", the 'older' brother of the Stella twins laughed at the request of his dishwasher.

\- **_Curses_**.-

With a movement worthy of the worst drunks in Caracas, he brought Tommaso and Giuda in front of the newcomer, who had a smile capable of melting Giuda's heart in an instant.  
 _And it did._

"Emilio, here's my co-partner and pastry-chef Tommaso Sandero, and my all-rounder, dishwasher, whatever-you-want, Giuda."

"I have a surname too, you know, old man.", with an eyeroll worthy of a Hollywood star, Giuda turned to Emilio.

Shit, he was _even more beautiful_ , up close.

"Giuda Schiavon. I would shake your hand but I have gloves on."

"Schiavon?", Emilio asked, lighting up.

How beautiful a human being could be? Was he even _legal_? 

"Ahah, his name is Schiavon. Which is perfect, since he's ours... **[6]** ", Remo started, but Emilio dreamily clasped his hands in front of his face and asked, interrupting him:

"Are you from Veneto too? I'm from Verona!"  
  
Giuda just shrugged, nodding immediately after:

"Par tera, par mar, Sammarco. **[7]** "

"Can del porco, un Venexian! Beaaa! **[8]** "

Having said that, Emilio approached him, pretending to speak in great secrecy - which was impossible, since everyone was still staring at him as if he was a wonderful thing, except perhaps Romolo, who was just looking at Giuda as if he was the worst thing that ever happened in this world:

"Cossa go da far pa aver na bona ombra de vin qua? **[9]** "

Was he trying to speak Venetian?  
Was there a limit to how cute he could be?

"Ask Remo. I only _wash_ the glasses, I don't fill them."

Having said that, he turned to the owner, making a superhuman effort to take his eyes off Emilio, who seemed quite dazzled by the answer.

"Can I go back? I have to go to the kitchen to finish washing the dishes before other people arrive for happy hour."

Then he turned back to Emilio, waving at him with half a smile:

"Fellow countryman, enjoy your stay in Bologna."

And then he left, without giving him time to answer.

*

Three years passed since their first meeting.  
Three years in which Romolo made the funniest epic fail with Emilio, in which Patrizio decided to stick his tongue down Luca's mouth, and Virgilio pretended to be drunk to touch Romolo's ass, whom he said he'd forgotten, but Giuda knew that was bullshit.  
Because he, being a chronic liar, could basically smell the lies.

In fact, not even for a second did he let anyone remotely suspect of his mind-blowing crush on the psychologist, especially the above mentioned, given that he was probably now convinced he hated his guts.  
Which was the intention of the Venetian, since he took for granted that the thirty-year-old was far beyond what someone like him could afford.  
After the disastrous relationship with one of his university buddies, Giuda indeed decided that being single was far better than being heartbroken.

Even though his heart wasn't too good.  
Treating Emilio badly was making him lose sleep, at times he risked forgetting to put on his contact lenses due to tiredness, and even Virgilio took the piss out of him for the bags under his eyes.  
And now he was there. Gloves in one hand and a broom in the other.

With Remo looking at him with a Cheshire Cat's smile on his face.

"You little snake. I get it, you know? You like the Veronese."

"You're speaking nonsense. I’d rather kill him right now. I dropped the glasses because of him."

"Don’t fuck with me. Tommy and I yell at you all the time and you’ve never jumped like this. Yo, Coso **[10]** , I can smell lies too, you're not the only one. You’re being a little shit because you like him."

Giuda kept looking the bar owner in the eye, trying to deny it with all of his body language.

" _ **I. Don't. Like. Emilio.**_ I don’t know what you’re thinking, but Mr. Psychoanalysis isn’t exactly my cup of tea, okay?"

"Giuda..."

There was something in Remo’s voice, something that for a moment opened a breach in the Venetian's heart.  
Maybe... Maybe he could trust someone.

"...From the first day he walked in here. You all got over it. But me? Never. I don’t have a crush on Emilio, Remo. _I’m in love_ with Emilio. But I’ve suffered enough in the past to know that I’m better off alone. What if it goes wrong? How am I gonna look at him? How...?"

"You don't know that. I mean, I don't know either even if I _live_ with him, how can you, if you run away every time you see him?"

"I personally believe that _**what you don’t know can’t hurt you.**_ "

"If Luca were here he would scream 'Boiate' **[11]**. Giuda... I..."

"Welp. It's too late now, the damage is done, right? He’s probably convinced I hate him even more after today's crap."

With a bitter laugh, Giuda surpassed the roman, continuing:

"I blew every chance, amen..."

"Giuda."

"But surely he won’t stop coming, we’re his favorite bar and you’re his roommate..."

"Giuda, shut up."

"I'm sure he'll find someone else pretty quickly, he just needs to breathe and someone always comes along."

" **Giuda!** "

The dishwasher turned again towards Remo, biting his lip as the stupid tears began to stream down his face.

"I can’t do this, okay? After Mattia, I don’t know what to do, with a man. Besides, I’m kind of a mess. Emilio will never appreciate someone like me."

Remo remained silent for a moment, before moving forward... and hugging? Giuda.  
The Venetian was baffled, usually it was Tommaso, the one with whom he sometimes allowed himself affectionate gestures.

"Shut your mouth, you’re not that bad. And I swear on Totti **[12]** , I’ll help you get the therapist, whether you want it or not."

Giuda laughed bitterly, his face stuck in the chest of his tallest peer.

"Yeah, sure. And how are you gonna do that?"

Remo let him go and asked, very seriously:

"Do you know how to play briscola **[13]**?"  
  
  


**[1]** : transl. "I'm fucked"  
 **[2]** : "Holy crap" + Pati = a nickname for Patrizio  
 **[3]** : this is a pun with Romolo and Remo's surname, "Stella" = "Star", that here is referred as "Stellina/Stelline" = "Little Star/Little Stars"  
 **[4]** : a nickname for Giuda, a diminutive of his name  
 **[5]** : a Romanesco dialect phrase that means more or less "Hey, guys!"  
 **[6]** : it's a pun with Giuda's surname, Schiavon, that in italian, without the "n" at the end, is "Schiavo" = "Slave"  
 **[7]** : it's a Venetian saying that literally means "on land, on sea, San Marco", but more broadly it means the power of the Venice Republic that reigned both on the land and on the sea  
 **[8]** : "Good heavens, a Venetian! Niiice!"  
 **[9]** : "What can I do to have a good glass of wine around here?"; in Venetian dialect, "ombra" means both "shadow" and "glass of wine"  
 **[10]** : "coso" is the italian version of "thingy" and/or "dude/dingus"  
 **[11]** : yes, "boiate" is the italian term for "falsehood", in this case  
 **[12]** : a famous Italian soccer player, specifically from Rome  
 **[13]** : a very popular Italian card game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see ya next time, ciao! ❤️


	3. Ch. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whenever Emilio Picani walked into the Dolce&Remì, all heads turned.
> 
> Even if he lived in Bologna on a permanent basis for three years by now, he didn’t know why everybody there, especially the usual people, laid eyes on him as they didn’t for other customers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again!  
> As usual, thank you so much to @misslilidelaney on Tumblr for writing this and @watcher-from-the-heights on Tumblr for being my awesome beta all the time.  
> Anyway, enjoy!

Whenever Emilio Picani walked into the Dolce&Remì, all heads turned.  
  
Even if he lived in Bologna on a permanent basis for three years by now, he didn’t know why everybody there, especially the usual people, laid eyes on him as they didn’t for other customers.  
  
And yet he wasn’t that flashy or even fashionable. Sure, he was tall, he had fine features and an enjoyable physique, but he wasn’t that special.  
He was just a nice guy, with his passion for colorful ties and pastel cardigans. Of course, he knew very well that he had been in the sights of a couple of them for a long time: he well remembered Romolo’s ruthless flirting and Virgil’s stuttering when he asked him to be his tutor on the subjects that he himself studied before opening his own therapy office in Bologna.  
  
And no one, not even his roommate Remo, knew how he opened Luca’s eyes to his cousin Patrizio, whom Emilio loved with all his heart.  
All three boys were undoubtedly beautiful, charismatic and, in their own way, interesting.  
  
Yet he _couldn’t_ accept their court.  
  
Because 30-year-old Emilio Picani hadn’t decided to come out yet. Partially due to his parents, fervent Catholics unlike him, but mostly because surprise surprise… Emilio Picani was _shy_.  
And before the bar, the usual places where he felt at home were his office and his room, where he surrounded himself with memorabilia from cartoons and anime, things that fascinated him since adolescence.  
  
In short his shyness, mixed with the stereotype of the glittery, feather-filled homosexuals he was accustomed to by his parents, always kept him away from the whole LGBT world, which the psychologist didn’t feel a part of.  
He envied his little Emilian cousin when he came out as pansexual, and he knew very well that sooner or later, hanging out with Patrizio’s clique, he had to decide, too, to get out of the closet.  
  
So he declined Romolo’s declaration for that very reason.  
Although _it wasn’t the only reason_.  
  
The second reason was… slightly taller than him. His shoulders were wide, although he often slouched, making himself about ten centimetres shorter in height. He had bright green eyes, almost to an unnatural extent.  
He had his hair shaved on the sides but with a thick quiff on top, which he held back with a yellow headband, clearly his favorite color. He rarely laughed, but when he did, it was a low, deep laugh, able to literally _shake_ the Veronese’s stomach.  
  
And he was from Veneto, like him.  
His second piece of home, after Patrizio.  
  
Emilio Picani, thirty years old, a therapist and still in the closet.  
But **_completely gay_** for Giuda Schiavon.  
  
He was convinced of that by now.  
He tried to deny it, to say that it was just his imagination.  
  
Everyone at the bar loved him, they laughed with him, they confided in him, sometimes for sentimental nonsense, sometimes for more serious consultations.  
Tommaso became one of his patients from the first day that he finally opened his office, and the two were now pretty close, almost like brothers. He was the first to whom Emilio confessed his sexual orientation.  
Tommaso embraced him and murmured: “Don’t worry, nobody figured it out.”  
  
They laughed, and the Veronese immediately called his cousin, who promised not to say anything, for the time being, to anyone, not even his significant other, Luca.   
Unfortunately, not even Tommaso could dispel Emilio’s doubts. Those doubts that by now became certainties, in those three years, and devastated the psychologist.  
  
Giuda, his beautiful, silent, mysterious and fascinating Giuda, couldn’t even _bear_ the sight of the Veronese. He never treated him badly, but Emilio couldn’t help but notice how he changed his attitude whenever he walked in.

He often looked at him from the bar’s window.  
He looked at him for a long time, laughing and joking with everyone, even with Virgilio, and by now he could read his expressions without hearing him speak, just by observing him. So he knew that the coldness he showed him was real.   
  
As his eyes became slits, as his words became cold hisses, rarely addressed to Emilio. Never openly unsympathetic, but incredibly icy. And apparently, whatever he had to do in the kitchen, he always had to do it when he walked in.  
But no one knew about his crush, except for Patrizio, who after all read him like an open book. And not even Patrizio could understand the change of mood of the Venetian, in the presence of his cousin. The young Bolognese tried to convince his cousin to surrender, or at least to talk to him, and this was precisely the reason why Emilio pushed himself, thanks to a nice glass of Millesimato di Conegliano, to speak, perhaps for the third time in three years, to Giuda in the bar.   
  
And that made the dishwasher guy so nervous that he dropped the glasses’ tray in his hand.  
“You’re welcome.”, the Venetian hissed, looking at him, for the first time in three years, in the eyes.

A rush ran through Emilio’s body. An electric shock like he never experienced before. Joined by an endless lump in his throat for what just happened.  
As soon as Giuda wandered off to take the broom to sweep up the floor, followed by Remo, Emilio stood up and tried to go around the counter to pick up the glass pieces but Tommas ostopped him right away.   
  
“You’re gonna hurt yourself. You get paper cuts all the time, can you imagine what would happen with glass?”

“But… Giuda…”  
  
Tommaso sighed and perhaps understood: “Giuda will be fine. It’s not the first time he’s spilled glasses. Maybe he should calm down a bit; if he hadn’t been so tense he wouldn’t have dropped them. Don’t even think it’s your fault.”  
  
Emilio sighed, taking off his glasses and shaking his head:  
  
“But **it is** my fault.”  
  
Patrizio approached him, and put his hand on his shoulder again.  
Luca was behind them and suggested, matter-of-factly:  
  
“Emilio, do you want to get some air?”  
  
The Veronese nodded carelessly and they went outside. Despite Patrizio’s dirty look, the Veronese automatically extracted his pack of cigarillos and lit one.  
As he blew out the smoke from the miniature cigar, he kept looking inside the bar. And he saw Giuda, with his yellow gloves, going up on the counter and looking around.  
  
He’d been… crying?  
His eyes, particularly the left one, were tremendously red. The sigh, undoubtedly of relief, emitted by the young Venetian followed by the hand on Remo’s shoulder, definitely devastated the 30-year-old.  
Patrizio was watching the scene next to him, and he murmured:  
  
“He acts like _he’s_ the victim when he actually did it all by himself. What a two-faced snake…”  
  
“Patrizio, please…”, begged the Veronese.  
  
“Please what? _He_ dropped the glasses, not you. You just thanked him, Emi. I don’t know how you can like someone like t…”  
Patrizio opened his eyes wide and shut his mouth with one hand. But the damage had been already done.  
  
Luca was looking at both of them with his eyes wide open like a deer in front of headlights. He looked at them both with shock, Emilio who by now had given up and begun to silently cry, pulling from the cigarillo like a madman, and Patrizio who continued to whisper his apologies.  
And he cleared his voice pretty nicely before asking, with kindness, despite the hard accent typical of his region:  
  
“Do you want to come to our house for some hot tea? I’m sure we can raid some of Romolo’s nicest cookies.”  
  
Emilio nodded, and his cousin’s boyfriend took them both under his arm, taking them away from the Dolce&Remì.  
The boy giggled when, while stepping into the living room, they surprised Virgilio and Romolo sitting on the couch and hugging each other, watching Mulan on Blu-ray, claiming to have fallen asleep, not noticing the compromising position.  
  
He silently watched Luca hugging Patrizio from behind, whispering something in his ear while the young Emilian was preparing tea for all of them. And he widened his eyes in terror when both the Molisan and the Roman confessed that they had noticed his crush on Giuda probably before Emilio admitted it to himself.  
The evening passed quickly, almost too quickly, between the teasing towards Emilio for his questionable choice - Romolo was still so mad at him, for obvious reasons - and when it was time to go home, Emilio thought of staying in his cousin’s apartment with his three lovely roommates.  
  
But he knew that in that same building, his roommate Remo was coming home.  
So he kissed his cousin on the forehead and hugged the other three, and took the elevator home.  
  
Once the door was open, he found Remo looking at something on the computer, in the dark of the dining room:  
  
“Oh, hey, Emì. You ran off to your cousin? Giuda wanted to apologize for treating you so badly.”  
  
Right. He had _such_ a sorry face.  
  
“Actually, I’m the one who should be apologizing. I made him destroy the glasses and I ran away. Holy crap, I’ve been a jerk. I hope he doesn’t throw a chair at me the next time I walk into the bar.”  
  
“C'moooon. Giuda smashes glasses, and not only those, more than he could ever admit!”, laughed the Roman, before yawning loudly and getting out of the chair:  
  
“Listen… I wanted to do something nice at the bar… Something that can involve young people but traditional at the same time. If we had a briscola tournament **[1]** , would you like to play?”  
  
“Holy crap! Are you seriously asking me? I **love** briscola!”  
  
“Alright, bruh. C'mon then, I’ll talk to Tommy tomorrow and see what we can do about it. If you don’t come to play, I’ll never talk to you again!”  
  
Emilio nodded and Remo went to his room, a little diabolical smile on his face.

**[1]** : according to Wikipedia, “Briscola is one of Italy’s most popular games, a Mediterranean trick-taking, Ace-Ten card game for two to six players played with a standard Italian 40-card deck. With three or six players, twos are removed from the deck to ensure the number of cards in the deck is a multiple of the number of players; a single two for three players and all four twos for six players. The four- and six-player versions of the game are played as a partnership game of two teams, with players seated such that every player is adjacent to two opponents.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed it, ciao!


	4. Ch. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Emilio Picani walked into the Dolce&Remì, nobody turned to look at him. 
> 
> The two owners were busy setting up the tables for that night's tournament, helped by Romolo and Patrizio, Luca was talking to Virgilio in front of the soda fridge and nobody, for once, seemed to have noticed his entrance. 
> 
> No one but one person. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, for the last time!  
> Again, I can't express how much I need to thank @misslilidelaney on Tumblr for writing this and @watcher-from-the-heights on Tumblr for being my awesome beta all the time.  
> Enjoy the chapter, I hope you all like it!

When Emilio Picani walked into the Dolce&Remì, nobody turned to look at him.   
  
The two owners were busy setting up the tables for that night's tournament, helped by Romolo and Patrizio, Luca was talking to Virgilio in front of the soda fridge and nobody, for once, seemed to have noticed his entrance.   
  
No one but one person.   
  
"Emilio."  
  
The earth began to tremble under the Veronese's feet.  
He dreamed of that voice calling him for three long, eternal years.  
And now that he finally said his name, it was even better than he ever dared to imagine.  
The rhythm so right, the voice so deep and hoarse, almost musical.  
  
Emilio realized a second too late that the Venetian approached him and was watching him.  
For the first time, he didn’t leave.  
  
"EhhhhhhHello"  
  
What was he doing?   
He immediately cleared his voice and smiled at the Venetian, trying again: "Hi Giuda!"   
  
He did what he had often scolded Patrizio for doing: smiling and playing nice.   
Just because Giuda didn’t reciprocate his feelings in any way, it didn’t mean that he had to treat him badly or be cold to him.   
  
"Look, I saw you ran away the other day. It wasn’t your fault, you know? I'm the mona **[1]** , after three years one would think he’d be able to balance six glasses!"  
  
Giuda’s politeness was so... fake.  
It was clear that Tommaso and Remo forced him to talk to Emilio to not look bad, and that led him to shrug.  
  
"No problem, my friend. I’m the one who startled you by shouting and I left because Luca and Patrizio needed a ride."  
  
\- Great. Lie to him. It's not a big deal. At this point, you're just a pain in the ass for him. -   
  
Giuda nodded and looked over his shoulder.   
  
"Look how much they're working. You here for the briscola?"  
  
Were they really having a conversation? After three years and making an ass of himself for once, Giuda was finally talking to him?  
Impossible.  
Clearly, with the owners being busy, he was supposed to entertain the customers.  
And Emilio was, without a doubt, nothing more than a customer for the Venetian.  
  
The latter nodded to the counter and quickly came back, followed by a hesitant Emilio, who still couldn’t believe he was finally having a conversation with him.  
  
"Yeah, Remo basically forced me. I **love** briscola, but I love having a roof over my head even more!"   
  
Giuda nodded carelessly as he pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to him:  
  
"Sign up here, then."   
  
And that being said, he walked away, continuing to arrange things on the counter, ready for the incoming customers. Emilio added himself to the list of people, much longer than he expected, and as he saw the names he realized that...  
  
"Ohiii! Am I the only one who signed up for this tournament?"   
  
Everyone turned to look at him for a moment before returning to their chores, except for Patrizio who nodded to him:   
  
"None of us can play briscola."  
  
Emilio huffed, and asked Tommaso, who came back to the counter to drink some water: "By how much do I lower the average age?"   
  
The pastry chef almost choked on his water laughing:  
  
" **A lot**. A few decades actually!"  
  
Emilio sighed:  
  
"I’m **never** gonna win."   
  
Within an hour of the opening, the bar was filled with the highest number of Bolognese old men ever seen by the psychologist in his life.  
And he was supposed to compete with all of them.  
On his own.  
And hope to not be crushed by all the blasphemies and the age-old skills of the men and women before him.  
  
Remo stood up on a chair and he proclaimed, serious:  
  
"So, gentlemen! Let’s just calm down: it's time to begin, or the brides and grooms at home will be pissed off that I’m making you guys late."  
  
He calmly waited for everyone to stop laughing, continuing then, more quietly:  
  
"So, as there are so many of you, I’d say the first part can be done in pairs, and the remaining couples at the end of the turn, will compete until there is only one winning pair... Who will have to **compete** to decide who's the true king of Bologna's briscola!"  
  
Applause and laughter followed his announcement, while Emilio realized, terrified, that he had no one to pair up with.   
A few moments later Remo indeed approached him, showing the attendance sheet in his hand.  
  
"Look, we got a little problem here. We can't play with an odd number of people. And... I think you’re too young for all of them..."  
  
Emilio shrugged, smiling bitterly:  
  
"It’s okay, I’m quitting. I'll play another time."   
  
"No no no, are you kidding me? You paid the dues so you're gonna play... We’ll find you someone right now..."  
  
He looked around for a moment, before looking at the counter, where Tommaso and Giuda were setting the glasses.  
Did Tommaso know how to play briscola? He certainly didn’t see it coming, although he wasn’t entirely surprised.  
  
"Slave! Get over here!",  
  
ordered Remo with an evil smile, which almost frightened the Veronese.  
  
Giuda approached at a heavy pace, taking off his dish-washing gloves with a curious look on his face.  
  
"If you don’t stop that, I’m gonna make you eat these gloves. What do you want?",  
  
declared the Venetian as he watched them both.  
  
"Emilio is alone playing in the middle of this fierce jungle. You’re the only one who can play briscola. Team up with him."  
  
"Remo... I don't know if that's a good idea...", began Emilio, more embarrassed than happy: he didn’t want to force the boy to be with him when it was obvious he didn’t even want to be in the same room.  
  
"Oh, Verona, I’m good enough for you, you know?"  
  
Emilio panicked, watching firstly Remo and then Giuda:  
  
"No, no, I meant that you have to work and not..."   
  
And Giuda, with a firm move, took him hand in hand, making the poor therapist go completely haywire.  
  
"Look, I can have a night off, why would I rather work?"   
  
And he winked at him.  
  
Giuda.  
A wink.   
  
That one gesture was like a cold shower for Emilio.  
That’s why he didn’t object.  
Not because he wanted to be with him.  
But to avoid work.  
  
The Veronese closed his eyes and moved away from Venetian's grip, nodding.  
  
"Okay, then. But you better not let me come last in the tournament."   
  
The dishwasher quickly got rid of both the gloves and the apron, and looked at Emilio before telling Remo:  
  
"I’m gonna go change for a second."   
  
And with this, Giuda walked away, while Remo turned to the Veronese, and smiled at him.  
  
"C'mon, c'mon. He’s really good, I’ve seen him tear up some grandparents like you have no idea."  
  
Emilio nodded, sitting on an empty coffee table.   
Victory, in that moment, wasn’t _exactly_ his main problem.

  
*

  
Remo had been... perfect.  
Giuda would never have expected such a well-elaborated plan.  
He knew very well what he was doing when he chose briscola as a game, knowing that his brother and his friends never played it.  
  
After putting the bowler hat on his head in the employee's locker room, Giuda checked that the contact lenses were in place, then took a quick look in the mirror.  
Of course, next to Emilio he would have looked bad regardless, but he wasn't really that bad in his tight black jeans and the black t-shirt with the yellow edges, tight on his shoulders.  
  
Emilio, so cute and composed, so sweet and with such a beautiful laugh.  
Giuda made an immense effort to decide to go and talk to him, but he realized that sooner or later, if he wanted to get to his heart, he would have at least let him know that he could talk.  
Once out of the locker room, the various couples settled down at the tables, and he immediately identified Emilio, whom he approached quickly.  
  
"Come on, they gave us some kids here!",  
  
Faustino, the mechanic, declared, while Giuda sat down in front of the psychologist.  
Who knows what conversation Emilio had with the two, because he watched him approach with the widest eyes the dishwasher ever saw on him.  
  
"Gentlemen, let's let the briscola here decide who the kids are.",  
  
the latter established, clapping his hands blatantly, while Ginetto, Faustino's colleague, began to distribute the cards.  
  
Giuda first looked at his cards and looked at Emilio, then immediately looked at those on the table.  
Emilio followed his gaze and narrowed his eyes for a moment.  
He understood what he wanted to let him understand.  
And indeed, Emilio's move was perfect, and he allowed them both, in a few moves, to win their first game.  
  
As they changed tables to meet their new opponents, Emilio seemed to foresee Giuda's moves and lose himself more and more in the game, showing an enormous competitive spirit, so much that the Venetian thought he heard him whisper a blasphemy when one of the grandparents unleashed an unexpected move, which, however, didn't make them falter.  
  
After a good couple of hours of playing, Remo announced a pause to be able to make the rankings, and the two boys approached the counter, finding there only Tommaso, who was calmly serving the customers, who absolutely didn't dare to raise their voice at him.  
  
"Where's everybody?",  
  
Emilio asked, while Giuda went around the counter to get a bottle of red wine and two glasses.  
  
"Patrizio and Luca went to the cinema, and I think Romolo and Virgilio had an urgent desire to watch a Disney classic."  
  
Emilio laughed, and Giuda came down from the counter and nodded towards the outside of the bar. Once outside, they sat on one of the benches made available by the Dolce&Remì on the stallage.  
Giuda already opened the wine, and poured it while Emilio lit a cigarillo.  
  
"Do you smoke?",  
  
the Venetian asked, handing him the glass.  
  
"Yeah, only cigarillos though. Does it bother you?"  
  
Giuda snickered for a moment before getting a fake black and yellow python wrapping, containing the necessary to roll his cigarettes.  
  
"I'd say no, Picani."  
  
The two smoked and drank in silence for a while.  
Remo suggested to the Venetian to take advantage of the break to come forward.  
  
"Listen, Emilio..."  
  
"No. _You_ listen.", the Veronese interrupted him, looking ahead:  
  
"I'm sorry Remo made you stay with me tonight. Believe me, I realized that I am not really in your good graces. I don't understand why but I guess I can't be liked by everyone, and it's fine with me. But... Uh, thanks. I haven't played briscola and I haven't had so much fun in a lifetime... So..."  
  
"Ah... ahah... ahahahah!",  
  
the Venetian began to laugh:  
  
"Wow. I thought that a good therapist like you would understand. And instead I was really too good!",  
  
Emilio looked at him more and more confused, and Giuda shook his head.   
  
"Emilio. You're... you have a beautiful voice. A hypnotic laugh.  
You're as beautiful as the sun, intelligent, well-liked. I... I, as the Molisan says, 'tell things as if they were true.'!  
I've been, and sometimes I am still, a pathological liar.  
And you're a psychologist. I was afraid that, by letting you get closer, you would have noticed what a shitty person I really am.  
But... I couldn't take it anymore.  
When I talked you back the other day, I realized that I couldn't continue like this.  
I don't even know if you like men but...  
I _like_ you, Emilio.  
I like you _a lot_.  
Since you walked into the bar the very first day. Everyone liked you, of course. But for everyone sooner or later, the crush faded.  
Instead I... The more time I spend with you, the more I realize that I want to spend more..."  
  
And he turned his face towards him, holding back his tears.  
  
He never exposed himself to a man like that, not after what happened with his ex, Mattia.  
  
Emilio looked at him in silence for so long that Giuda only wanted to run away. He started to add more nonsense when the Veronese began to speak:  
  
"Wow. I really suck as a therapist.",  
he laughed, releasing a breath that he had been holding back for who knows how long - or at least, that's what it looked like to Giuda:  
  
"Giuda, I ... Wow. I really thought I was pissing you off, damn it!  
All this time I was overthinking and feeling sorry for myself because I had fallen in love with someone who fucking hated me and it turns out that you actually like me?  
Wow. Really. Three years.  
If I wasn't happy as a clam I would tell you to fuck off right away."  
  
And he stood up, standing in front of the Venetian, planting his hands on his hips after leaving the stub on the ashtray.  
  
"Get up.",  
  
Emilio sentenced with a smile. Giuda got up immediately, looking at the boy in the eyes.  
  
Emilio's brown eyes were so beautiful...  
Unlike his.  
  
"Seriously, Schiavon, you tell me I'm beautiful, but have you seen yourself? Your smile is hypnotic, your voice is to die for. You also have a fabulous ass. And your eyes... They're..."  
  
"Fake."  
  
"Wha...?"  
  
"They're contact lenses, Emilio. I also lie about that."  
  
With a rapid movement of his hands, Giuda lowered his head and worked for a few moments on his own eyes.  
  
Emilio stepped back in amazement at the scene: Giuda's right eye was a very normal dark green eye, while the other... was a bright light blue eye.  
  
"Heterochromia ..." the Veronese whispered, looking at the other in astonishment.  
  
"Haha! The only hetero thing I have!", the Venetian laughed nervously, quickly approaching Emilio and placing his hands on his hips.  
  
"I was an asshole. I thought that pushing you away would have been the best choice, because you don't deserve a mess like me. But I can't avoid the inevitable, I can't allow my emotions to let an extraordinary man like you get out of hand."  
  
"Giuda... Are you... ummm... Are you quoting Steven Universe?"  
  
"...Yes. Tommaso said that you often mention it during the sessions and I started watching it. It's reallMPFHHHHHH!"  
  
He didn't even realize the approaching psychologist, who literally closed his mouth with his own, his eyes closed tight.  
  
Giuda looked at him for a few seconds, before relaxing in the kiss, which had already taken a more interesting turn. Giuda's hands passed from the hips to the Veronese's face, stroking his cheeks with his thumbs.  
  
Emilio held him in an embrace, bending his head slightly to deepen the kiss.  
  
When it was time to breathe a little, they both laughed with teenager-like awkwardness.  
  
"Are you still interested in that briscola tournament?"  
  
Emilio asked in a whisper, a whisper that made the Venetian's bowels _tremble_.  
  
"Not even if I pretended to... But if I don't play I have to go back to work..."  
  
Emilio thought about it for a moment, and took the young man by the hand:  
  
"Let's win this tournament then!"  
  
But Giuda stopped him and turned him towards himself, before whispering softly into his ear:  
  
"As far as I'm concerned, **I've already won tonight**."  


  
**[1]** In Venetian dialect, it literally means "pussy".  
It's used with the meaning of "stupid" or "idiot" , too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAA I LOVE MY BABIES SO MUCH.  
> Thank you all for sticking with me.  
> It was a wild ride and I can't wait to translate/write something again. <3  
> Ciao!

**Author's Note:**

> So... did you like it?! I really hope you did, because there will be other chapters later on and I can’t wait to share them with you all!   
> See ya around, ciao! <3


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